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V AND r 

OTHER POETICAL STORIES. 




By THOMAS H. TRIGGS, 

For thirty-five years .a member of the Cigarinakers 
Unions of America and England. 



COPYRIGHTED 1904 BY THOMAS'- H. TRIGGS. 






KIERNAN PRINTING CO. 



'! NEW HAVEN, CONN. 



*! 



CONGRESS 

Ow COPV RECffvrr 

JUN. 54-1904 

r\ Oh«v^O»*T fwrov 
CLASS ft^XX* N*. 



1 




Retribution. 

A Story of A Deserted Mansion. 

Come light a fresh cigar, my friend, 

And take the easy chair, 
The story will interest you 

If you've the time to spare. 
I've related it to many 

And some have even said, 
It would make as fine a novel 

As many they had read. 
It's just ten years ago this spring 

Since Stanley went away ; 
No man nor women has been inside 

The mansion since tnat day 
And the grounds, that were so beautiful 

With lawns of emerald green, 
Are now a wretched wilderness 

As you have just now seen. 
And I suppose the grand old place 

Will stay as it is now ; 
For Lester Stanley's not a man 

Who soon forgets a vow. 
For when she died — I mean his wife. 

Some thought he'd go insane ; 
While others thought he'd end his life 

W T ith a bullet in his brain. 
But he vowed that the fine old mansion, 

Out of respect for his wife. 
Should never more be opened 

During his wretched life. 
So he just discharged the servants, 

And then he went away ; 
And no one here has seen him 

Since that very day. 
But I'm drifting away from my story : 

I should first of all relate 
How the poor lad, Lester Stanley, 

Fell heir to this rich estate. 
Old Barton was Stanley's uncle, 

Upon his mother's side, 
Though Stanley did not know it 

Until the old man died. 



RETRIBUTION. 



Old Barton and his sister 

Had quarreled years before, 
And had not corresponded 

For fifteen years or more. 
'Tvvas he who built the mansion, 

Intending, so they claim, 
To marry a handsome woman 

Of very doubtful fame. 
But on the eve of their wedding" 

Her history came to light ; 
So she got together all she could 

And left the place that night. 
So old Barton stayed a bachelor t 

And often he has told 
How very near, at that time, 

He came to being sold. 
He never lived at the mansion ; 

But once in a while he came, 
For he used to say that country life 

For him, was far too tame. 
But, just before the old man died, 

It seemed he realized 
His end was drawing very near ; 

And then he advertised 
For tidings of his sister, 

Who, he knew, had gone out west, 
Soon after they had quarreled; 

And he felt he could not rest 
Until he made her some return 

For the wrong that he had done. 
But others say it was his wish 

To meet his sister's son ; 
But, if that really was his wish, 

It never was fulfilled ; 
Although, his vast estate and wealth, 

To him the old man willed. 
For Stanley had been in Europe, 

Somewhere, about a year, 
Where he held a good position 

As a civil engineer. 



RETRIBUTION. 



'Tw as just before he went abroad, 

His poor old mother died ; 
Who seldom spoke of her brother's wealth, 

•Knowing her son's great pride. 
But Stanley still corresponded 

With lads he knew at school, 
Who had kept him well supplied 

With papers, as a rule. 
In this way he had learned the news 

About his uncle's death ; 
But when he saw he was his heir, 

It nearly took his breath. 
He lost no time in coming back 

To prove his legal right ; 
As many claimed relationship 

And said they'd make a fight. 
But one by one they fell away, 

Seeing their chance was slim, 
For he was the only relative 

And all was left to him. 

His affairs at last were settled, 

And needing a little rest, 
He sent word to the mansion^ 

To prepare for himself and guest. 
His guest was a well known architect, 

To whom, no doubt, is due 
The many fine improvements 

That made the place like new. 
But just as soon as it was known 

That Stanley would be here, 
The dainty cards came pouring in 

From far, as well as near. 
And many a scheming mother 
' Begjun to plot and plan, 

^ " To introduce their daughters 

To this rich and handsome man. 
And many an ancient brougham 

Was suddenly replaced 
By the grandest style of carriage 

That a lady ever graced. 



RETRIBUTION. 



But little did those schemers think 

How brief his stay would be ; 
Still less did they imagine 

There was one across the sea, 
Who loved this man so dearly — 

Loved him for himself ; 
Who knew not that his uncle's death 

Had given him such wealth ; 
For Stanley had not told her 

About his uncle's will ; 
But, simply led her to believe 

That he was feeling ill, 
And that a trip across the sea 

Would, no doubt, mend his health ; 
Intending later, to divulge 

The secret of his wealth. 
'Twas while he was in England, 

He met his future bride, 
The daughter of an officer, 

Who, years ago, had died 
While serving out in India 

Against some rebel force ; 
But, she was then by far, too young 

To recognize her loss. 
But I've often thought it very strange, 

That Stanley could not see, 
About her mother's married life, 

There seemed some mystery. 
The daughter, from her childhood, 

Dared never speak her name, 
Which seemed to be suggestive 

Of some hidden shame. 
Although Miss Sybel Dunton's name 

Was ranked among the best. 
In the town where she resided 

And where Stanley was a guest; 
But Stanley knew, she loved him 

With the fullness of her heart, 
And his love for her grew stronger 

Each day they were apart. 



RETRIBUTION. 



But her letters, which came often, 

Seemed to hasten him away ; 
Otherwise, he would no doubt 

Have made a longer stay ; 
For he'd been here but a day or two 

When he and his friend began 
Suggesting such alterations 

As would suit his modern plan; 
And then a swarm of workmen 

Came down upon the scene, 
And soon there remained but little 

Of the old place to be seen. 
'Twas then that a local paper 

Published an interview, 
Which gave his neighbors some idea 

What he was going to do. 
It started out by saying 

How deep was his regret, 
He could not find the time to call 

Upon his neighbors yet ; 
For just as soon as his affairs 

Would permit him to depart, 
He intended going to Europe, 

And expected soon to start. 
And then he vaguely hinted, 

When the mansion was complete, 
He hoped for a gay home coming 

With someone else to greet. 
I scarce need say, the folks around, 

After their first surprise, 
Began to wonder who she was 

Who had won this wealthy prize. 
But many were disappointed 

Though they tried their best to hide 
The bitterness against her, 

Caused by their wounded pride. 

But Stanley sailed and as time passed, 
Towards the summer's close, 

A marvel of skill and workmanship, 
That statelv mansion rose. 



RETRIBUTION. 



It seemed as though the magic power 

Of some Aj/a-c^n/s^amj^ _^__^// 

! ve7ywhere in evidence, / 

And bore the Genii's stamp. 
For the furnishings were exquisite, 

And of the rarest kind ; . 
As if he'd searched throughout the world 

Such costly things to find; 
And then an expert gardener, 

The best that could be found, 
Came on to add artistic skill 

To beautify the ground. 
One day his friend, the architect, 

Came hurrying down to learn 
If everything was quite complete, 

For they would soon return ; 
By they, of course, he meant 

Lester Stanley and his bride, 
Who, as I found out later, 

Were married at Eastertide. 
But everything was quite prepared, 

And then in Stanley's name, 
He invited friends to meet them 

At the mansion when they came. 
And then came the splendid horses, 

Selected with greatest care, 
For saddle and for harness, 

For four-in-hand and pair. 
'Twas evident he did not mean 

The old man's wealth to hoard ; 
For he had learned extravagance 

Completely while abroad. 
But the day had arrived at last, 

And folks for miles around, 
Had gathered at the station 

Or drove up to the ground, 
To welcome the happy couple 

And give them a hearty cheer, 
And hoped they'd live as neighbors 

For man\' a happy year. 



RETRIBUTION. 



'Twas the first week- in October, 

The weather was just serene, 
And the leaves of gold and purple 

Were mingled with the green ; 
The day was warm and balmy 

With scarce sufficient breeze, 
As the evening was advancing, 

To rustle the falling leaves. 
Such was nature's welcome 

To this pair, whose future life 
Seemed as cloudless as the heavens 

From every care and strife. 
The train arrived, and just as soon 

As the happy pair stepped out, 
The many friends in waiting 

Sent up a hearty shout. 
Twas a scene to be remembered 

And I doubt, if the oldest there 
Had ever at that station seen 

A sight, with it to compare. 
For most of his friends held torches 

Of different colored fires, 
And rows of Chinese lanterns 

Were hung through the streets on wires ; 
And then his friend, the architect, 

As had no doubt, been planned, 
Stepped forward from the others 

And shook them by the hand. 
Then in a few well chosen words, 

Which all around could hear, 
He bade them welcome to their home 

That now should be most dear. 
Then off they went in carriages, 

And all alom?" the route, 
The humbler class of people 

To welcome them turned out. 
And soon the mansion came in view, 

A palace, indeed, it seemed, 
As from each window everywhere 

Those lights of welcome gleamed. 



10 RETRIBUTION. 

It was, no doubt, the happiest hour 
Of Lester Stanley's life, 

To find such a hearty greeting- 
Accorded to his wife. 

And she, no doubt, felt quite rejoiced, 
Just leaving her native land — 

-To receive from perfect strangers 
A reception thus so grand. 

The Autumn and the Winter parsed 

In an uneventful way ; 
Each hour its usual routine brought 

And day succeeded day. 
But now the month of April came, 

And all nature seemed to be 
Rejoicing that from Winter's grasp, 

It was at last set free. 
And the grounds around the mansion 

Once more began to wear 
A spring-like look, while sweet perfume 

Of lilacs filled the air. 
One morning Stanley's mail contained 

A letter, which, he saw 
W 7 as written in a lady's hand 

And a foreign post mark bore. 
It seemed to cause him some surprise, 

Which many people feel, 
Who scan the writing o'er and o'er 

Before they break the seal. 
And as he read the missive through, 

He seemed to look quite vexed, 
And then he read it through again 

But still he was perplexed ; 
And then he sat and thought awhile, 

Then to his wife he said: 
u Fve just received a letter, dear, 

From an aunt I've long thought dead." 
In order to explain to her 

And not be thought absurd, 
He told her from the very start 

How the whole thing had occurred. 



RETRIBUTION. I ] 



His father was an Englishman, 

Who came here quite a lad, 
And Stanley had saved his letters 

Which he from home had had. 
So, when he went to England, 

He tried his best to find 
His father's only sister, 

Whom he left, quite young, behind ; 
But his advertising was in vain, 

So he gave up all idea 
Of ever hearing from her, 

More, especially now, out here ; 
But the purport of her letter was 

To say how pleased she'd be, 
To pay their home .a visit 

Though far across the sea ; 
So if they felt a like desire, 

To answer by next mail, 
For she was quite prepared to come 

And would at once set sail. 
It took but little time for them, 

Although it might for some, 
To reach the mutual answer 

That she of course should come ; 
And so a letter was dispatched 

In most affectionate way, 
To say they'd be delighted 

To have her come and stay. 
That morning as they took their drive. 

It seemed as though a cloud 
Hung over their great happiness 

And the love they both had vowed. 
Now several days had passed away 

Since the letter had been sent, 
But neither one had said a word 

Concerning the event. 



12 RETRIBUTION. 



One afternoon, some old time friends 

Of Stanley's came to try 
A couple of his thoroughbreds, 

That they had wished to buy ; 
So they went down to the paddock, 

Where a groom, in waiting, held 
A couple of the finest bays 

They ever had beheld. 
Then the two who were interested, 

Mounting the horse he chose, 
Went cantering off to try them 

As a shout from the others rose. 
But one of those two young fellows 

Who had cantered off in glee, 
I must introduce in my story 

As the artist, Horace Leigh. 
'Twas last season while in Paris 

That he had gained the name, 
As the greatest portrait painter 

Known to modern fame. 
But let us follow the horsemen, 

Who now are riding free, 
Across the splendid open stretch 

Of beautiful country. 
But see! they're making for the road, 

Their pace is now immense, 
But Stanley seems to hold his breath 

As they ride toward the fence. 
But see ! the foremost takes the jump 

And lands with grace and ease; 
But the other falters, strikes the fence 

And falls upon her knees. 
The lookers-on soon realized 

That one of their friends was down 
And sent the groom to summon 

Some doctor from the town; 
Then they hurried to where the rider 

Lay motionless and white, 
But they were much relieved to find 

He was not killed outright. 



RETRIBUTION. 



Then a bier was soon constructed, 

For each had done his best, 
So that the injured Horace Leigh 

More easily could rest. 
Then they bore him to the mansion 

For Stanley had sent a groom 
For his wife to direct the servants 

To prepare a certain room. 
By the time they reached the mansion 

And laid him gently down, 
Two skillful surgeons had arrived, 

Who were summoned from the town. 
They soon found that his injuries 

Gave no cause for alarm, 
Beyond an ankle badly sprained 

And a dislocated arm; 
Although it would be quite sometime 

Without the slightest doubt, 
Before he would be well enough 

Again to be about. 
A few days after, a letter came 

From Stanley's aunt to say 
That long before it was received 

She would be on her way ; 
But she hoped to meet her nephew 

At the dock where she would land, 
As she was traveling quite alone 

And needed some friendly hand. 
Then Stanley made enquiries 

When the vessel would be due, 
That he might go to meet her 

As she desired him to do. 
So ere a week had passed away, 

He left his loving wife ; 
For the first time, they were parted 

Throughout their married life. 
By this time, Leigh had much improved. 

Being able now each day 
To get down to the library 

And pass an hour away. 



14 RETRIBUTION. 



At times he met his hostess there, 

Whose charming easy grace 
Set him at his ease at once 

In going about the place. 
At times he'd sit and talk with her 

Of places where he'd been, 
And of the marvels of his art 

That he in Rome had seen. 
'Twas while they talked of pictures 

That she had thought to ask 
If enlarging from small portraits 

Was a very difficult task ; 
As she had a picture, a miniature, 

Of her husband when quite young, 
Which, ever since their marriage, 

Around her neck had hung. 
It had been his mother's treasure 

And she thought how nice 'twould be 
To surprise him with a large one 

Painted by Horace Leigh. 
Then he asked to see the picture, 

Resolving in his mind, 
That he'd produce a masterpiece 

When he, the time, could find, 
Then he told her, how delighted 

He would be, to reproduce 
The portrait of her husband. 

If she granted him its use. 
So taking that cherished keepsake 

Off from its golden chain, 
She begged him not to lose it 

For its loss would cause her pain. 
Then he promised he would guard it 

Even as he would his life, 
For he felt so much indebted 

To both Stanley and his wife. 
But here their pleasant little talk, 

Which both enjoyed so well, 
Came to a sudden ending 

By the ringing of the bell. 



RETRIBUTION 



IS 



And then a servant softly knocked 

Upon the library door, 
And handed her a telegram 

Expected long- before ; 
For the ship was some days overdue, 

Through storms that had prevailed 
All over the Atlantic, 

From the first day she had sailed. 
But now the welcome telegram 

From Stanley, was to say, 
That his aunt had safely landed 

And Jhey would be home that day. 
She gave orders that a carriage 

Be sent to meet the train, 
And then went to prepare herself 

To meet her love again. 
For, though she felt for this new aunt 

A kind of a childish fear, 
She was rejoiced that Stanley 

Would soon again be here ; 
For although she lacked for nothing, 

She felt as a loving wife, 
That only her husband's presence 

Gave sunshine to her life. 
And Leigh was also pleased to know 

His friend was coming home, 
For his health was fast improving 

And he longed again to roam. 

The great hall clock had just struck six, 

And Sybel Stanley sat 
Alone, by an open window, 

In view of the entrance gate; 
But soon the sound of horses hoofs 

Fell on he** listening ear, 
Which told her unmistakably, 

That they would soon be here. 
One final look in the mirror 

On that sweet and happy face, 
Then bounded down to meet him, 

And was locked in his embrace. 



l6 RETRIBUTION. 



After their joyful greeting. 

He took her hand and said : 
" Sybel, this is my aunt Dora, 

Whom I so long thought dead." 
Then taking his aunt's hand also r 

Said, " Aunt, this is my wife, 
And I hope that perfect happiness 

Will attend us all our life." 
Just then Horace Leigh had entered, 

But stood quite unobserved, 
But he could not fail to notice 

How Sybel was unnerved. 
The small black eyes of Stanleys aunt 

Were fixed upon her niece, 
And the hand she held so firmly, 

Seemed unwilling to release ; 
But that look would be remembered 

Until Leigh's dying day, 
As the look of a human serpent, 

Upon its helpless prey. 
But Stanley did not notice it 

And turning saw his friend, 
Whose hand he shook real warmly, 

Being glad to see him mend. 
Then turning to his aunt again, 

Said, " Aunt, this is Horace Leigh, 
An artist of no mean repute, 

And friend of our family." 
Leigh simply bowed acknowledgment, 

Not caring to reply, 
For to say he felt delighted, 

He knevv^ would be to lie. 
But seeing Sybel's misery, 

He extended her his hand, 
And said, he hoped she'd much enjoy 

Her visit to this land. 
She was then escorted to her rooms, 

And Stanley sought his own, 
Thus leaving Leigh and Sybel 

In the svtting room alone. 



RETRIBUTION. 1 7 



Leigh was pleased that the opportunity 

Was afforded him to say, 
Something else about the portrait 

Before he went away. 
He hoped, he said, to have it done 

Within a month or so, 
But he wished her first to see it 

At his New York studio. 
But the problem then confronted them, 

How he could let her know, 
When the portrait was completed 

And where she had to go. 
For if he wrote direct to her, 

It might cause some surprise, 
Which made it most imperative 

That they some plan devise. 
At length it was agreed upon, 

Though she felt half afraid, 
That he should mail the letter 

Addressed to Sybel's maid. 
In her she placed more confidence 

Than anyone beside, 
Although she had no secrets 

Until now to confide. 
Leigh wrote the name upon a card, 

In case he should forget. 
Alas ! what trivial things, at times, 

Fill some lives with regret. 
That evening Stanley and his aunt, 

Feeling tired from their ride, 
Sat quietly conversing, 

Being seated side by side. 
She was telling him of India, 

And the sights that she had seen 
In places, where the mutiny 

Some years before had been. 
Even now, she said, the British there 

Live in continual fear, 
That another Nana Sahib 

Might suddenly appear. 



RETRIBUTION* 



Somehow, it occurred to Stanley 

To ask if she ever heard, 
Of the gallant Colonel Dunton 

Of the famous Sixty-third. 
Did I ever hear of the Colonel ? 

Why, I knew him well, of course, 
I was the principal witness, 

In obtaining his divorce. 
Then Sybel, hearing her aunt's reply, 

Rose quickly from her seat, 
And staggering to her husband, 

Fell fainting at his feet. 
Stanley was grieved exceedingly 

Though making no comment, 
It pained him much to think that Leigh 

Should witness this event. 
But he rung the bell for a servant, 

And sent for Sybel's maid, 
To hurry to her mistress 

Who needed her friendly aid. 
Aunt Dora's face was a study, 

At first, her small black eyes 
Gazed on the scene her words had caused, 

With mute unfeigned surprise ; 
But like a flash the truth had dawned, 

That she was Dunton's child, 
Once more her heart for vengeance yearned, 

As malignantly she smiled. 
That smile was the smile of triumph 

Over a ruined life ; 
The life of her hated rival, 

Once Colonel Dunton's wife. 
But now to find that rival's child, 

A happy petted bride, 
Renewed the hatred of her heart 

That naught could turn aside. 
But she quickly perceived that Stanley 

Had felt himself disgraced ; 
So without a word to anyone 

She left the room in haste. 



RETRIBUTION. 19 



As Sybel regained consciousness, 

She gazed around the room, 
Like one awakening from a trance 

And thus escapes a tomb. 
But Stanley held her in his arms 

And gently spoke her name, 
Though bitterly he felt the stab, 

About her mother's shame. 
Soon Sybel and her maid retired, 

Thus leaving the men alone; 
Leigh felt his friend's predicament, 

As though it were his own ; 
But neither referred to the matter, 

Not knowing what to say ; 
So Leigh commenced to tell his friend 

That he must leave next day. 
But Stanley tried to urge his friend 

To stay a week or two. 
For after such an accident, 

He needed rest he knew. 
But Leigh explained that he had left 

Some work but just begun, 
Intended for the academy 

That ought to have been done. 
But when he bade his friend good night, 

He felt inclined to say 
A word or two of warning, 

Before he went away ; 
But then he thought, it might provoke 

Some feeling of alarm, 
And where he had intended good, 

He might be doing harm. 

Aunt Dora had spent a sleepless night, 

And shortly after dawn, 
Before the servants were astir, 

She was out upon the lawn. 
Her mind still dwelt on the strange event, 

Which led her to this place, 
And the hatred for her rival's child 

That nothing could efface. 



RETRIBUTION. 



Nothing but ruin most complete 

Would satisfy her hate, 
For why should not her rival's child 

Suffer her rival's fate ? 
But how she was to bring about 

The ruin of one so pure, 
She felt it was no easy task, 

And she remain secure. 
For she had not seen sufficient 

Of Stanley yet to know, 
How to arouse his jealousy, 

And how far she dared go. 
But of one thing she felt certain, 

That he had been misled, 
Concerning Sybel's mother's fate 

Before they ever wed. 
For when she replied to his question, 

And Sybel fell at his feet, 
Was it not to ask his forgiveness 

When he found out her deceit ? 
Then she thought of Leigh, whose manner 

Toward his friend's young wife, 
Might possibly be so magnified, 

As to cause them future strife ; 
But Stanley had informed her, 

How his friend had been detained, 
Through meeting with the accident, 



In which his foot was sprained. 
But firmly was her purpose set, 

No matter, soon or late, 
A web of ruin must be spun, 

Though she, for years, must wait. 
With such infernal thoughts as these, 

Filling her morbid brain, 
She had once more retraced her steps, 

To seek her room again. 
"But as she reached the sitting room, 

She picked up from the floor, 
A very small morocco case 

That was lvin£ near the door, 



RETRIBUTION. 21 



But seeing no name upon it, 

She felt that she was free 
To open the case and ascertain 

What the owner's name could be. 
But the first card that she looked at, 

Had filled her with surprise, 
As she read the pencil writing, 

She scarse believed her eyes. 

le front bore the name of Horace Leigh, 

Followed by his address, 
On the other side, was Laura Dale, 

When writing to " S. S." 
She had recognized in Laura Dale 

The name of Sybel's maid, 
And by the other it was plain 

Some appointment had been made. 
It was evident that a secret 

Existed between those two, 
The friend that Stanley trusted, and 

The wife, he thought so true. 
That evil smile of triumph spread 

Over her face once more, 
As she placed the card in her bosom, 

And the case upon the floor. 
It was as a key to a cipher, 

For she would watch the mail, 
And steal the letters from the bag 

Addressed to Laura Dale ; 
Then after reading their contents. 

She could seal them up anew, 
A thing she'd often done before 

And people never knew. 
Such w r as the plan that she had formed 

In that brief space of time, 
Trusting now to her craftiness, 

To aid her in her crime. 
Xo sooner had she reached her room, 

And softly closed the door, 
Than Horace Leigh walked leisurely 

Through that corridor. 



22 RETRIBUTION. 



He had not missed his little case 

Until now, when he saw 
It lying straight in front of him 

Upon the polished floor. 
Nor did he think to open it 

To see if that card was there, 
But thought how very fortunate 

It had not dropped elsewhere. 

Horace Leigh had arose quite early, 

Being anxious now to learn 
What time the coachman, with the mail, 

Was likely to return ; 
For much depended on his mail, 

What time he'd go away, 
For he had quite made up his mind 

To leave for home that day. 
But while at the breakfast table, 

He found out that unless 
He caught the train at 10 a. m., 

He could not go express. 
l 7 or it was quite an hour's ride 

To New York by that train, 
While any other through the day 

Took half as long again. 
Then Stanley ordered a carriage, 

And asked his aunt if she 
Would accompany Sybel and 'himself, 

To the town with Horace Leigh. 
But Aunt Dora thanked her nephew 

For being so very kind, 
But hoped they would excuse her, 

If she remained behind. 
Aunt Dora had declined to go, 

Because she wished to make 
The acquaintance of the servants, 

And some observations take. 
She had learned from past experience, 

What aid they often lend 
In obtaining family secrets, 

For some designing friend. 



RETRIBUTION. 23 



In this way, she had hoped to learn 

Much about Laura Dale, 
_Both regarding- her general habits, 

And how she got her mail. 
For though her plan seemed perfect, 

She still must act with care, 
For she perhaps might go to town 

And get her letters there. 
Hut her mind was much relieved. 

When a rack to her was shown 
Where the servants' mail was placed, 

That each could take their own. 
She also learned, that Laura Dale 

Was late in coming down, 
And no one ever heard her speak 

Of going to the town. 
Then she went into the library, 

Where Sybel the day before 
Had carelessly left her diary, 

In an open drawer. 
The last entry she had written, 

Was about the miniature. 
That she intrusted to Horace Leigh, 

And the purpose it was for; 
But Aunt Dora read the entry 

With a scowl upon her face, 
For she now saw that their secret 

Was devoid of all disgrace ; 
But still she would not abandon, 

The hope that soon she'd find 
The letter, that might eventually 

Poison her nephew's mind. 

Three weeks had passed, and still no word 

From Leigh had been received ; 
And Dora now began to think 

That she had been deceived. 
For not one morning had she missed 

To search the mail bag through. 
And not a move could Sybel make 

But what Aunt Dora knew. 



24 RETRIBUTION. 



But since Aunt Dora had arrived, 

Sybel had seen much more 
Of the Social World around her, 

Than she had seen before. 
Stanley, of course, was very pleased. 

To think that his young wife 
Was entering less reservedly, 

Into society life. 
Although he did not much enjoy 

The pleasures of this kind, 
And where he saw the slightest chance, 

He some excuse would find. 
One morning, Sybel reminded him 

Of their promise not to fail 
To accompany some friends of theirs 

For a long day's sail. 
But Stanley had quite forgotten, 

And said he felt quite grieved, 
To think he could not keep his word ; 

For he had just received 
A letter of great importance, which 

Allowed of no delay, 
And for a day or two at least. 

He'd have to go away. 
It was of course unfortunate 

That it should happen so, 
But still he saw no reason 

Why Sybel should not go. 
And so it was arranged at last. 

That she should go alone, 
Although he felt some kind of fear, 

He did not care to own. 
Aunt Dora had sat and listened 

To all that had been said, 
And now to hide that evil smile, 

She had to turn her head, 
For the mail contained that morning 

The letter for Laura Dale, 
And she saw that her opportunity 

Was during- Svbel's sail. 



RETRIBUTION. 



<-3 



So she left them still conversing 1 , 

And hurried to her room, 
To open the stolen letter, that 

Should seal poor Svbel's doom. 
The letter was very brief indeed, 

And simply read " S. S." 
"Come on Tuesday morning sure. 

On the 10 a. m. express, 
A cab will be there in waiting", 

To drive you to studio, 
The driver will wear some violets. 

So that you may know." 
Then she took a seat at the window 

To see her niece depart ; 
But ere the carriage was out of sight, 

Went down to act her part. 
Stanley was still in the library, 

Reading some favorite book, 
But started as he saw his aunt 

With such an evil look; 
She started in by telling him, 

How much she was surprised, 
That he had met and married 

A woman so much despised. 
Then she related her own story 

Of Sybel's mother's shame, 
And how she wantonly disgraced ' 

The gallant Colonel's name. 
Then gradually she introduced 

The name of Horace Leigh, 
But Stanley rose up from his chair 

And stared most furiously. 
But she was calm and subtle, 

And mistress of her art, 
For she had studied every point, 

To play her fiendish part. 
Then she took the card from her bosom 

And asked him, if he knew 
The pencil writing on the back, 

And who " S. S." alluded to. 



26 RETRIBUTION. 



Stanley's face turned white with rage, 

As he read that card again, 
For he recognized Leigh's writing and 

He saw their plot most plain. 
Then she told him that she found it 

The day Leigh went away, 
And how since then she'd watched the mail 

Until that very day. 
" But at last, she said, my patience 

Has met with its reward." 
Then she handed him the letter 

Without another word. 
And as he read those few brief words, 

He sank down in his chair, 
A crushed and broken-hearted man, 

So great was his despair. 
Aunt Dora might have pitied him, 

But she before had seen 
The anguish of a man and wife 

That she had come between. 
For several minutes, Stanley sat 

With his head upon his hand. 
And then with a mighty effort 

Regained his self command. 
Then turning to his aunt, he asked, 

What she thought best to do; 
For he would tear her from his heart 

If she had proved untrue. 
Aunt Dora seemed quite overcome, 

And sadly shook her head. 
" My poor, dear nephew, it is hard 

To see you thus, she said; 
But after all it may not be, 

That she has sunk so low 
As to meet him as he tells her, 

At his New York studio. 
Of. course the letter must be sealed, 

And left for Laura Dale, 
Who will give it to her mistress 

When she comes from her sail, 



RETRIBUTION. 27 



But I heard you say this morning, 

That you must go away, 
And why not go yourself and see 

If she goes there that day. 
And if I saw her enter there, 

I'd sue for a divorce, 
And cast her out upon the world 

Without the least remorse." 
As those last words fell on his ear. 

He gave a sudden start, 
As though a knife or bullet 

Had pierced his manly heart. 
And, as he rose up from his chair, 

He seemed an altered man; 
Twas evident his mind was set 

To follow out this plan. 
Then, in a husky voice, he said, 

" My duty, Aunt, is plain, 
Until I prove her false or true, 

We must not meet again." 

Svbel had had a pleasant sail, 

But, all day long, her mind 
Reverted in the strangest way, 

To him she left behind. 
And as she rode toward her home, 

She sadder seemed to grow 
Although she knew no reason why 

She should be feeling so. 
It was quite late when she returned, 

And everything around 
Seemed as lonesome as the tomb, 

In that stillness so profound. 
But Laura Dale was in the hall, 

Whose happy, smiling face 
Seemed to banish gloomy thoughts 

And brighten up the place. 
And when they reached the solitude 

Of Sybel's sweet boudoir, 
Laura handed her the letter 

That she had long looked for. 



28 RETRIBUTION. 



And after reading- its contents, 

She thought how opportune 
That Stanley had to go away, 

And not return so soon. 
For now she would not have to find 

Any excuse to go, 
For she could travel there and back 

And no one need to know. 
The next day being Tuesday, 

She wished to rise at eight, 
To catch that 10 a. m. express 

And must not be too late. 

When Stanley reached New York that day 

He made his way direct 
To his old time friend and school-mate, 

Known as the architect. 
And to him he told his story, 

How his fair young wife 
Was under the grave suspicion 

Of leading a double life. 
And that he wanted a witness, 

To see if Sybel went 
Alone to the artist's studio, 

As he feared was her intent. 
His friend, of course was sorely grieved 

At such distressing news, 
And any favor Stanley asked 

He could not well refuse, 
So it was arranged between them 

To hire a cab and wait, 
About the time the train was due 

Near to the exit gate. 
For she of course would follow 

The instructions sent by Leigh, 
And look for the cab to take her 

As quickly as could be. 
And then if they saw her enter 

'Twould be his only course, 
To at once instruct his lawyer 

To sue for a divorce. 



RETRIBUTION. 29 



That night when Stanley was alone 

And looked back on the day, 
It seemed that all his manly strength 

And fortitude gave way. 
Then he called to mind how Sybel 

Had undergone a change, 
Since the day that Leigh had left them 

And had become so strange. 
But it did not dawn upon him 

That since Aunt Dora came, 
His manner to his loving wife 

Had never been the same. 
Thus as the dreary hours crept by, 

His mind incessant dwelt 
Upon the crushing blow that she 

So merciless had 'dealt. 
And, then, when the morning sunshine 

Filled his pleasant room, 
He felt like a weary culprit, 

Who nears his hour of doom. 
But he had not yet decided 

What would be best to do, 
Pending the sad proceedings, 

If he really had to sue. 
Of course, he would provide for her 

In a generous way, 
That she would not be destitute 

And he, perhaps away. 
Just then it had occurred to him 

He had promisedT long ago 
To visit a friend in Paris, 

And now was the time to go; 
For only his friend, and lawyer 

Need know where he had gone, 
And they could keep him well informed 

How things were going on. 
Just then he had mustered courage 

To take his pen and write, 
That cruel letter to his wife, 

That must her future blight. 



3o 



RETRIBUTION. 



He intended that his lawyer' 

Should act without delay, 
And bear the letter personally 

To Sybel the next day. 
Then looking at his watch he saw 

'Twas time to meet his friend, 
Who he knew would be in waiting 

His sad services to lend. 

As Sybel neared New York that morn, 

Aboard that speeding train, 
She many, many times had wished 

That she was home again. 
For she now perceived her folly 

In travelling there alone, 
'Twas an act of impropriety, 

She could not help but own. 
But gradually, that speeding train 

Began to slacken pace; 
Then Sybel drew her veil more close, 

To hide her blushing face. 
For now they had reached the station, 

And with that busy throng, 
Moving toward the exit gate, 

She, too, must pass along. 
But when she reached the sidewalk, 

She stood and gazed around, 
Bewildered by the busy scene, 

And by the deafening sound; 
She had stood there but a minute, 

Then joyfully espied 
The cabman, " wearing violets," 

Who drove up to the side. 
But as she stepped into that cab 

And swiftly drove away, 
How little did she know the cost 

Her future life must pay ! 
How little did she dream that, he 

Whose love to her was life, 
Was now prepared to brand her as 

A faithless banished wife ! 



RETRIBUTION. 3 1 



For Stanley and his faithful friend 

Had followed close, and saw 
Her leave the cab while Horace Leigh 

Stood waiting at his door. 
Stanley bore it manfully, though 

'Twas plainly to be seen, 
His life would never be the same 

As what it once had been. 
And as Sybel view'd his portrait, 

And thought how pleased he'd be 
With such a splendid picture, 

Painted by Horace Leigh ; 
He was driving to his lawyer, 

To tell him all he knew r 
Of the evidence against his wife, 

On which he'd have to sue. 
And when he left that office, 

His heart felt like a stone, 
Now more than ever through his life 

He felt he was alone. 

When Sybel returned that evening, 

And alighted from the train, 
She vowed she'd never undertake 

To go alone again. 
Although the picture pleased her, 

And would be sent next day, 
For Leigh worked hard to finish it, 

Before he went away. 
For he'd had a splendid offer 

From an English Lord, 
And all arrangements had been made 

For him to go abroad. 
But when Sybel reached the mansion 

She was met by Laura Dale, 
Whose manner was confused and strange 

And her face was very pale. 
Then as she took poor Sybel's hand 

And crossed the spacious hall, 
She seemed to shake in every limb' 

As though about to fall. 



RETRIBUTION. 



She led her to the sitting room, 

Where Sybel took a seat, 
And Laura drew a hassock near 

And sat down at her feet. 
But Sybel had guessed, that something 

Unusual had occurred, 
Even before her faithful maid 

Had time to speak a word. 
Then she told her how Aunt Dora 

Had got the keys that morn, 
And entered Sybel's private rooms 

As soon as she had gone. 
And that a telegram had come 

Somewhere about mid-day, 
And some of Stanley's traveling trunks 

Were packed and sent away 
Poor Sybel was so bewildered, 

With all that she had heard, 
That she sat and stared at Laura 

But could not speak a word. 
But at length, her maid suggested 

Goin^ to her rooms to see 
If they could find the reason 

For all this mystery. 
They went to her rooms, not thinking 

That she would ever dare 
To search her desk or papers, 

Or take a thing from there. 
But she found that from her diary 

Some pages had been torn, 
And the letter that Leigh had written, 

From her desk had also gone. 
SybeTs feeling of indignation 

Soon gave way to alarm, 
For she saw Aunt Dora's motive 

Must be to do her harm. 
But what was more perplexing still, 

And caused her most dismay, 
Was that her husband's traveling trunks 

Were packed and sent away. 



RETRIBUTION. 33 



B,ut she know to seek Aunt Dora 

And ask her to explain, 
Would be to cause her pleasure 

At the cost of her own pain. 
So all there was left for poor Sybel 

Was to ponder, weep and wait 
For the morn to dispel her sorrow, 

Or seal her hapless fate. 
To wait for that cruel letter, 

That shall rend her heart in twain 
And send her out an outcast 

Under that fearful bane. 

A week had passed since Stanley's suit 

Had shocked the social world, 
And every kind of righteous scorn 

On Sybel had been hurled. 
For the case seemed clear against her. 

Especially since 'twas known 
That the co-respondent, Horace Leigh, 

Had left her to fight alone. 
For within an hour one morning, 

Two ships steamed down the bay, 
Each bearing its freight of precious-lives 

To shores so far away. 
On one was the artist, Horace Leigh, 

Proud of his growing fame, 
But unconscious of all the calumny 

That sullied his fair name; 
On the other was Lester Stanley, 

Still firm in his belief 
That Leigh had been the guilty cause 

Of all his present grief. 
But as fre paced the silent deck, 

With fever'd aching brain, 
How oft his thoughts had wandered back 

To his false love again. 
But now they near the shores of France 

And joy fills many a heart, 
But no such joy can Stanley feel 

Who stands from all apart. 



34 



RETRIBUTION. 



For some are met by loved ones 

Parted for many a year, 
But their joy finds mute expression now 

In many a glistening tear. 
But Stanley went on to Paris 

And sought the best hotel, 
Then went to his rooms immediately, 

For he was not feeling well. 
But later that night a doctor 

Was summoned to see the guest, 
Who was feeling weak and weary, 

And whose mind was much distressed. 
The doctor saw that his patient 

Would likely grow much worse, 
So told them to procure at once 

An English-speaking nurse. 
Next morning when the doctor called, 

He found the nurse was there, 
And gave her all the instructions 

Pertaining to his care. 
For he saw that Stanley's condition 

Was very grave, indeed, 
And knew that skillful nursing- 
Was now his greatest need; 
'Twas a most malignant fever, 

And soon, no doubt, would come 
Those many sleepless days and nights 

Of wild delirium. 
Already the patient began to show 

These symptoms in his case, 
As he breathed the name of ' 4 Sybel " 

When he saw his nurse's face. 
His nurse was somewhat startled, 

When she heard him speak her name 
Although so many thousands more, 

She knew, might bear the same. 
But her sad, sweet face seemed brighter, 

As she moved about the room 
Performing those gentle duties, 

Yet heedless of the gloom. 



RETRIBUTION. 35 



And as she bathed his fevered brow, 

She breathed a silent prayer, 
That "He who marks the sparrows fall' 

That stranger's life would spare. 
But let us leave poor Stanley 

Still battling for his life, 
And follow the events occurjnsr 

To his persecuted wife; 
Let us return to that morning 

When Stanley sailed away, 
To the visit that his lawyer paid 

To Sybel on that day. 
She was seated in the library, 

Her eyes still wet with tears, 
And her mind still alternating 

Between vain hopes and fears, 
When a carriage passed the window 

And drove up to the door, 
And a gentleman alighted, 

She had never seen before. 
But when the servant handed her, 

The stranger's card, she knew r 
That her very worst suspicions 

Had turned out to be true. 
She had often heard her husband 

Mention his name before, 
As one of the most able men 

That ever studied law. 
He was shown into the library, 

But as he entered there, 
He thought he never yet had seen 

A face so sad or fair. 
And as he said, years afterwards, 

He saw at once that she 
Was just as pure and innocent 

As any child could be. 
But he was there to carry out 

His instructions in the case, 
And not to risk his client's cause 

On any sad, sweet face. 



36 RETRIBUTION. 



And then as he bowed respectfully, 

Declining the proffered chair, 
He proceeded to tell the business 

That had brought him there. 
He said, ''As your husband's lawyer 

It devolves on me of course, 
To inform you that your husband 

Is su^ing for a divorce. 

ie evidence" he said, "is such 

That leaves no room for doubt, 
Although it was by accident 

That he had found it out. " 
Then he handed her some papers 

Remarking, 4l you will see, 
That the co-respondent in the case, 

Is the artist, Horace Leigh. 
This letter, my client also sent, 

Which doubtless will explain, 
Some matters concerning your support 

Till he returns again. " 
And then as he finished speaking 

He bowed again and left, 
As Sybel fell upon the floor 

As though of life bereft. 
But late that night two women 

Passed through the mansion gate, 
And stepped into the carriage 

That long had had to wait. 
And as that carriage started off 

Towards the station's light, 
A fiendish, mocking laugh was heard 

In the stillness of the night ; 
For hidden by the darkness, 

Aunt Dora had watched with glee, 
And laughed that fiendish mocking laugh, 

At her victim's misery. 
For never again in society, 

Could Sybel show her face, 
And who could now dispute her right 

As mistress of that place ? 



RETRIBUTION. 37 



For now she would enter society 

And freely entertain. 
For the chances were that Stanley 

Would never wed again. 

Horace Leigh arrived in London, 

Who now, as the honored guest 
Of one of England's noblemen, 

Was taking a few days rest. 
He was seated alone one morning, 

Having just received his mail. 
But the first lines that he looked at 

Had made him turn quite pale. 
'Twas a letter from his lawyer, 

Dated the day he sailed, 
Informing him how his character, 

That day had been assailed. 
For he had been named by Stanley, 

Though wrongfullv, of course, 
As co-respondent in his suit 

For an absolute divorce. 
Then he opened his New York paper. 

Published the following day, 
Which told how the co-respondent 

Had secretly gone away. 
It told how Stanley's- aunt 

Had intercepted mail, 
Written by Leigh to Stanley's wife. 

But addressed to Laura Dale ; 
And that she'd often seen her niece 

Board the New York train, 
But at last she told her nephew 

When she would go again. 
And then her husband and his friend 

Watched her and saw her go. 
And meet her guilty lover 

At his New York studio. 
And then in another column, 

He happened quite by chance. 
To read that Lester Stanley 

Had sailed awav to France. 



38 



RETRIBUTION. 



Then as he placed his paper down, 

And leaned back in his chair, 
He thought of the awful burden 

That Sybel now must bear. 
Then taking his pen commenced to write, 

For it had crossed his mind 
To write to a friend in Paris, 

Stanley's whereabouts to find. 
For he felt it was his duty 

To find him and explain, 
The cause of all the trouble, that 

Had given them such pain. 
Then he wrote to tell his lawyer, 

He'd return before the trial, 
And gave him full permission 

To publish his denial. 



Two weeks had passed and the doctor 

Stood by his patient's side, 
And watched in anxious silence 

For the fever to subside. 
For he knew that the looked for crisis 

Was drawing very nigh, 
That must decide unerringly 

If he would live or die. 
But soon his feeble pulse gave signs 

That strength and skill and care, 
Had gained a final victory 

For the stranger lying there ; 
For now those hours of raving 

That made his poor nurse weep, 
Had given way to helplessness 

To calm and peaceful sleep. 
But when the doctor left that morn 

And reached the hotel door, 
A gentleman accosted him 

Whom he had not met before. 
The stranger said he had waited 

Most anxiously to learn, 
The condition of his patient 

Which caused him great concern. 



RETRIBUTION. 39 



Then the kind old docter told him, 

How pleased he was at last 
To tell that the dreaded crisis 

Had been so safely passed. 
"Although", he said, "he's very weak, 

And needs our utmost care, 
For even the least excitement 

Is more than he can bear. 
So if you wish to see your friend, 

Or even communicate, 
I would advise you for his good, 

A week at least to wait." 
Then the stranger asked the doctor 

If he would be so kind, 
As to bear a letter to his friend, 

When he improved in mind. 
As a matter of great importance 

Called him far away, 
Otherwise he would be pleased 

A week or more to stay. 
Then the doctor took the letter, 

Remarking, half in jest, 
"I hope it bears good news for him, 

For his mind seems much distressed.' 
The stranger smiled and said he hoped 

'T would act as a magic charm, 
In hastening his friend's recovery, 

Rather than do him harm. 
That evening the nurse was standing 

Beside the patient's bed, 
When he awoke from his long sleep 

And tried to raise his head. 
She saw that his reason had returned, 

Although he seemed to stare, 
As he asked in a very feeble voice 

How long he had been there. 
Then tenderly she raised his head, • 

As a mother would her child, 
And answered him evasively 

Though pleasantly she smiled. 



40 RETRIBUTION. 



But ever as that gentle nurse 

Would move from place to place, 
It seemed it must have been in dreamr. 

That he had seen that face. 
A week had passed since the crisis — 

The doctor was pleased to find 
His patient seated in a chair, 

And much improved in mind. ■ 
Then seating himself he told him, 

How near he'd been to death, 
And how the nurse and he had watched 

Expecting his last breath. 
Then, as he rose to take his leave, 

And bid them both adieu, 
He thought of the letter as he said 

"I've something here for you, 
'Twas handed me by a stranger, 

Who said he was your friend, 
And bid me say how grieved he felt 

And hoped you soon would mend." 
But when Stanley took that letter 

How little did he suppose, 
That it was penned by one he thought 

The worst of earthly foes. 
With trembling hands, he opened it 

And then commenced to read, 
But every line seemed like a stab, 

That made his poor heart bleed. 
It showed him how he'd been misled. 

By a wicked woman's hate, 
But that he soon must learn the truth, 

Although perhaps too late. 
Then it gave the truthful story, 

How the whole thing had occurech^ 
And most bitterly it censured him 

For judging his wife unheard. 
And when he had finished reading, 

He bowed his head in shame, 
For he knew that his own folly 

Was principally to blame. 



RETRIBUTION. 41 



His nurse had watched him read 

As though she feared to find 
That it would have some bad effect 

Upon her patient's mind. 
For she also had two letters. 

Of which he did not know, 
That were addressed to Stanley, 

And received some time ago. 
But now, she saw, his mind was strong; 

She felt somewhat relieved, 
And told him about the letter.-. 

And when they were receive 
The first was from the architect, 

And was quite common place, 
As it bore no reference to his wife, 

Nor the impending case. 
But the second was from his lawyer, 

Stating that he had been 
To the mansion, as instructed, 

And described that painful = 
It also told him that his wife, 

Lookirg quite sick and pale, 
Had called at his office later, 

Accompanied by Laura Dale. 
And, also, that his generous gir: 

Indignantly was spurned, 
And even the jewels he'd given h ; 

She also had returned. 
•• But now," he said, "she is living 

In comparative distress. 
As Madam Sybel Dunton, 

At the following address." 
Then Stanley bowed his head _ 

As tears coursed down his 
And involuntary sobbed aloud 

As he calmly tried to speak. 
For he would like to know what days 

The boats for America sail, 
For he would try to write at 

To catch the New York ma 



42 RETRIBUTION. 

His nurse had watched his silent grief, 

Although she kept from sight, 
Until he asked for pen and ink 

As he would try and write. 
But his weakness was far greater 

Than he had even thought, 
For he found he could not trace a line 

When they to him were brought. 
But his nurse saw his dilemma, 

And kindly asked if she 
Could be of service to him, 

In his present difficulty. 
Then he thanked her for her kindness, 

And asked if she would write 
A letter for him that he wished 

To mail before the night. 
Then he told her his sad story, 

How he had been deceived, 
By evidence against his wife 

Which he, till now, believed. 
" But now," he said, '■ I am convinced 

That she is good and true, 
For that is what I wished to write, 

But leave it now to you." 
Then he handed her the letter, 
♦ Remarking, with a sigh, 
44 I wonder who has suffered most, 

My darling wife or I." 
. Then, as his nurse began to read, 

Her parent's eyes were closed, 
As he leaned back on his pillows 

And seemed as if he dozed. 
But he started as he heard a sob 

And with a cry most wild, 
She dropped the letter from her hand, 

And cried, " my child! my child !" 
Stanley at first was much amazed 

When he heard his nurse's cry, 
But waited patiently until 

Her excitement had passed by. 



RETRIBUTION. 45 



Again she cried, "my child ! my child ! 

Shall we then meet at last, 
After so many weary years 

Of sorrow and search have passed ? " 
Then turning to her patient, said, 

" The night I came to you, 
I dreamt that I had found my child, 

And now that dream is true." 
Then in a calmer voice, she asked, 

Where he had met his wife, 
And if she ever told him 

About her parent's strife. 
He told her it was in England, 

At a little town in Kent, 
Where he was introduced to her 

And most of her life was spent, 
But about her early history, 

She knew but little more 
Than that her gallant father 

Had perished in the war. 
But they had learned quite recently 

From an unexpected source, 
About her mother's shameful act 

That led to her divorce. 
" Who was it," she asked, excitedly 

"That told you such a lie? 
For never has woman suffered 

More wrongfully than I." 
Then Stanley told her that his aunt, 

Dora Stanley, by name, 
Had told them on the very. night 

That she from England came. 
" Xo ! No ! Not Dora Stanley ! " 

She reverently said, 
" She was my darling's faithful nurse, 

And she, poor girl is dead. 
She would have proved my innocence, 

Could she have testified, 
But on the eve of the trial, 
Most mysteriously she died. 



44 



RETRIBUTION. 



But the woman who falsely swore 

Against me at the trial. 
Was head nurse at the hospital, 

Whose name was Barbra Lyle. 
She was one of the Red Cross nurses, 

That served in Singapore, 
Where the Colonel went for treatment 

After the Afghan war. 
But that was before we were married, 

And I was not aware 
That she had tried to win his love, 

While he was a patient there. 
But after that she followed us, 

Wherever our regiment went. 
But little did I suspect her then 

Of any base intent. 
But I found out that her motive 

Was first to ruin me, 
Then try to gain my husband's love t 

As soon as he was free." 
Stanley had turned as white as death, 

And shook in every limb 
For that same villainous woman 

Had also imposed on him. 
It was plain, that very woman 

Who acted so mean, so vile, 
In trying to ruin his own fair wife 

Was this same Barbra Lyle. 
She had seen his advertisements, 

And knowing his aunt was dead, 
Had cunningly devised the scheme 

To write to him instead. 
But he vowed that he would punish her. 

The law should take its course, 
As a retribution long delayed 

For causing her divorce. 
Then Stanley grasped his nurse's hand, 

And kissed her sad, sweet face, 
As she blessed the day that Providence 

Had sent him to that place. 



RETRIBUTION. 45 



But later that day a letter 

Was sent forth like the dove 
That should bear the olive branch of peace, 

And a mother's fervent love; 
Bidding poor Sybel's heart rejoice, 

For soon they'd meet again, 
Trusting that future happiness 

Would banish all their pain. 
The rest of that evening passed 

In a very quiet way, 
For Stanley sadly needed rest, 

After such a day. 
But when the doctor called next morn, 

He seemed an altered man, 
As he sat and talked quite cheerfully 

About his future plan. 
For Sybel's mother and himself, 

Now felt a like suspense, 
And hoped to complete arrangements 

To leave there three days hence. 
Later that morning a carriage 

Stood waiting at the door, 
As Stanley, assisted by his nurse, 

Walked through the corridor. 
But suddenly he heard his name 

Spoken familiarly, 
And turning, saw the stalwart form 

Of the artist, Horace Leigh. 
Their meeting was quite friendly, 

And no one would suppose, 
That scarce a day had passed since he 

lought him the worst of foes. 
But Stanley smiled at Leigh's surprise, 

As he introduced his nurse, 
And remarked how oft a blessing 

Results from our greatest curse. 
Leigh accepted his invitation 

To dine with them that day, 
For Stanley had much to tell him 

Before he went away. 



46 RETRIBUTION. 






Sybel sat alone one evening, 

Weary in min,d and limb, 
And vainly tried to read a book. 

To divert her thoughts from him — 
From him, who vowed at the altar 

The day she became his bride. 
That he would love and cherish her 

Whatever might betide. 
But now she was weary of waiting 

To learn the court's decree, 
That was to declare her innocence 

Or. set her husband free. 
The hearing had been again postponed 

Until a week that day, 
On the motion of Stanley's counsel 

As his client was away. 
But as she sat and pondered, 

Waiting for Laura Dale; 
The kind, old janitress appeared 

With Madam Dunton's mail. 
'Twas the first that Sybel had received, 

And she gave a hasty glance, 
To see where the letter came from 

But saw it was from France. 
She had heard that Stanley went there, 

But could not understand, 
That the letter should be written 

In an unknown lady's hand. 
For she had not corresponded 

With any lady there, 
And although she longed to open it. 

Still felt she did not dare. 
But as she gazed in wonderment. 

She heard the welcome voice 
Of Laura singing some old song, 

That bids the heart rejoice. 
There seemed to be in that old song, 

As Laura approached the door. 
Something strangely prophetic. 

Unknown, unfelt before. 



RETRIBUTION 



But Laura shared her friend's surprise. 

When she knew from whence it came. 
But wisely suggested opening it 

And see the writer's name. 
Then following her friend's advice. 

She tore the seal apart 
And read aloud, the last few words 

Which caused them both to start. 
And then they read the letter through 

As tears of joy fell fast, 
For now her innocence was known, 

And all her sorrow passed. 
For not alone her husband's love 

To her had been returned, 
But she would know a mother's love. 

For which her heart had yearned. 
For now it was quite evident, 

That her poor mother's name 
In some mysterious manner, 

Was cleared of all its shame. 
For Sybel knew that her husband 

Must now be satisfied, 
That her mother was never guilty. 

And that Aunt Dora lied. 
For soon she would meet that woman, 

Aunt Dora, face to face, 
And repudiate her statement, 

Concerning her disgrace. 
But still it seemed some mystery 

Shrouded the whole affair, 
As he wished for strictest secrecy 

Until he met her there. 
Within three days they would arrive, 

And he would not be slow 
To vindicate her tarnished name, 

That all the world nwht know. 
Then he named his lawyer's office 

As the most befitting place 
Where they could meet and freely talk 

Over the whole, sad case. 



48 RETRIBUTION. 






For he recognized, most fully, now, 

How heartless he had been 
In judging her so hastily, 

On what he'd heard and seen. 
But those days of anxious waiting, 

Had now come to an end, 
And Sybel, attired becomingly, 

Arrived there with her friend. 
She had not noticed the carriage, 

Still standing at the door, 
From which a lady and gentleman 

Had alighted just before. 
But when she reached the office, 

And lightly touched the bell, 
She heard her own name spoken 

By that voice she knew so well. 
But as she stepped into the room, 

Her mother's look of pain 
Had vanished as she now beheld 

Her darling once again. 
And Stanley's heart was filled with joy, 

Though tears streamed down his face, 
To see that mother and her child 

Locked in that fond embrace 
But after a moment's silence, 

Her mother said, " my child, 
Next to the joy of meeting you, 

Is to see you reconciled 
To the man I have learned to love, 

Yes, even as my son, 
Who asks you to forgive him for 

The wrong that he has done." 
Then Sybel turned to her husband, 

But could not speak a word, 
For she knew that he was blameless 

For it was she who erred, 
Then Stanley clasped her to his breast, 

And wiped away her tears, 
For joy had succeeded sorrow . 

And banished all her fears. 



RETRIBUTION. 49 



Stanley's lawyer was much surprised, 

At what had taken place, 
But was pleased at the happy ending 

Of their wretched case. 
But he urged his client strongly, 

To show no leniency 
To the woman who had caused them 

Such pain and misery. 
And when they left that office, 

It was to go direct 
Down to the mansion, for they knew 

That she would not suspect 
That Stanley, his wife and mother, 

Could thus so strangely be 
Traveling there that very night 

To expose her infamy. 
But as Stanley neared the mansion, 

He was surprised to see 
So many empty carriages 

In that vicinity. 
But Aunt Dora was entertaining 

A number of friends that night, 
And the place was gaily lighted, 

Presenting a pretty sight. 
But when his carriage halted 

In front of the mansion door, 
The footman stared in wonderment 

As his master's face he saw. 
But Stanley told him, hurriedly, 

Not to announce his name, 
As he wished to surprise the hostess, 

When two policemen came. 
Aunt Dora stood gaily talking 

About her nephew's case, 
Telling how keenly she had felt 

This terrible disgrace. 
When suddenly her attention 

Was directed by a guest 
To a couple who had entered 

That were most strangely dressed. 



50 RETRIBUTION. 



The gentleman wore a muffler, 

Which partly hid his face, 
While the lady wore a heavy veil 

Of some dark colored lace. 
But Aunt Dora moved toward them, 

Assuming a pleasant smile, 
Until she heard the lady say, 

" Yes, that is Barbra Lyle." 
Then the man threw off his muffler, 

Which had so well disguised 
The features of Lester Stanley, 

While the guests looked on surprised. 
Barbra Lyle had staggered backward, 

And dropped into a chair 
As she recognized the voice and face 

Of her hated rival there. 
Then Stanley turned to the guests, 

And told them what delight 
It gave him to see so many friends 

Assembled there that night. 
"In fact," he said, " it seems that fate 

Has willed that it should be, 
In order that you may listen 

To that woman's infamy." 
Then he told how Sybel's mother 

During years of misery, 
Had borne the loss of child and name, 

Through that woman's perjury. 
" But, strange to say, she wrote to me, 

Soon after we were wed, 
As my father's only sister, 

Well knowing she was dead. 
And then to repay our kindness, 

As soon as she came here, 
She almost wrecked our happiness, 

By making it appear 
That my wife was unduly intimate 

With the artist, Horace Leigh, 
Whom she knew was kindly painting, 

A large portrait of me." 



RETRIBUTION. 5 1 



And then as he finished speaking, 

He turned to Barbra Lyle, 
Who sat there pale and trembling 

But offering- no denial. 
For her nerve had quite forsaken her, 

For little she thought the time 
Would ever come, when she would have 

To answer for her crime. 
But now she knew it was useless 

To deny a single word 
Of the charges brought against her, 

Which every one had heard. 
But as he advanced toward her, 

She began to weep and wail, 
And begged he would not have her 

Taken away to jail. 
For she had seen two policemen 

Advancing to where he stood, 
And she, as well as many more 

At once, supposed he would. 
But Sybel had prevailed on him, 

To let the wretch go free, 
Providing that she was willing 

To leave the country. 
Although he did not say a word, 

What his intentions were; 
But in a most commanding tone, 

He told her to prepare 
To leave this place immediately, 

As the hour was growing late, 
And her escort, meaning the officers, 

Did not much care to wait. 
The wretched woman looked around 

Upon that lovely scene, 
But not one look of sympathy, 

On any face was seen. 
Then, as she rose to leave the room, 

She overheard a jest, 
About her being sent to jail 

To show them how she dressed. 



52 RETRIBUTION. 



Then with a look of cold disdain, 

She hurriedly passed them by, 
As though they were inferiors 

And unworthy of reply. 
But some of the guests were leaving, 

While others in the hall 
Were waiting for their carriages 

That soon for them would call. 
Just then some strange commotion, 

Outside the door was heard, 
And several went with Stanley, 

To see what had occurred. 
But soon a footman entered, 

In search of the police, 
And the already great excitement, 

Seemed rapidly to increase. 
And then a solemn procession, 

Came slowly in at the door, 
And laid their lifeless burden down, 

Full length upon the floor. 
One look on those upturned features, 

That wore no frown nor smile, 
And each frightened guest had recognized, 

The face of Barbra Lyle. 
A hurried investigation of 

The windows in her room, 
Told the story faithfully 

How she had met her doom. 
For she had weighed her chances 

Of going to jail for years, 
Against her chance of liberty, 

If she overcame her fears. 
Some thought it an act of suicide, 

But plainly her intent 
Was to escape the officers, 

By making that mad decent. 
A coachman had seen her falX 



And hurried to where she lay, 
But when he procured assistance, 
Her life had passed away. 



RETRIBUTION. 



53 



Thus death had dropped the curtain 

Over her evil past, 
And in her seeming" triumph, 

Retribution came at last. 

When the papers appeared next day, 

The town with joy went wild, 
To know that Stanley and his wife 

Had come back reconciled. 
But when they read of Barbra Lyle, 

Who tried to plan their divorce, 
Meeting" with such a tragic death, 

There were few who felt remorse. 
But it seemed almost impossible, 

To find a happier pair 
Than Lester Stanley and his wife, 

At that time really were. 
But soon it became apparent, 

That even his great wealth 
Could never again restore her 

To her former health. 
For those weeks of untold suffering, 

Had weakened her young heart, 
And very soon the time must come 

When they would have to part. 
For several months she lingered, 

And then at last she died, 
And many thought that Stanley 

Would soon rest by her side. 
Hei mother returned to Paris, 

As soon as ever she could, 
For she felt that nursing the sick 

Was her sphere for doing good. 
Then Stanley closed the mansion, 

Having sent the servants away, 
And no one here has seen him 

Since that very day. 
But still there are many who think, 

That some day we shall learn 
That Staniey has outlived his grief, 

And will again return. 



54 AN OLD SEXTON'S STORY. 

^\n ®ld d)exton'§ J)top\j. 

I stood by an open grave one day, 

A grave just newly made, 
The sexton resting from his toil 

Stood leaning on his spade ; 
And as he wiped his furrowed brow, 

He cast his spade aside 
And asked me if I sought the grave 

Of the fair young suicide. 

I told him 'twas by chance alone 

That I had strayed that way; 
That as a stranger in the town 

I came but yesterday ; 
And as to the "fair young suicide", 

To whom he had referred, 
I had not read of the sad event 

Nor of it had I heard. 

Then he volunteered to tell me, 

The story which had led 
This young girl to her ruin, 

Who now is lying dead. 
"In a college town like this", he said, 

"It is sad indeed to see, 
So many fair young victims 

Of inequality. 

Her folks and I were neighbors, 

At the time when she was born, 
That's twenty years ago last month, 

How swiftly time has gone ! 
I recollect her leaving school, 

And starting in to work, 
Unmindful of the evils, 

That in those factories lurk. 

Her folks you see were very poor, 

And each one had to bear 
In helping to support the home, 

His or her own share. 



AN OLD SEXTON'S STORY. 55 



But somehow for a factory girl 
She seemed quite out of place, 

She had such fa ^inating wa ys. 
And such a winning - face. 

I watched her grow to womanhood 

With 'most a father's pride, 
And hoped some day to see her 

Some worthy fellow's bride. 
But she met a rich young student, 

From a place somewhere out west, 
Who lavished wealth upon her 

And had her richly dressed. 

He came on here to study law 

And those who know him say, 
He might have been a shining light 

Had he not been so gay. 
The night they met 'twas at a ball, 

A regular swell affair, 
And somehow with a lady friend 

She happened to be there. 

But time went on and their intimacy 

Grew apace, no doubt ; 
Then in a splendid carriage, 

He often drove her out. 
I may be hard upon her folks 

To say they were to blame, 
For they surely must have seen that she 

Was drifting down to shame. 

One night a stylish automobile 

Was standing at her door, 
A thing not quite in harmony 

With people who are poor. 
And then "Dame Gossip's" bitter tongue * 

Began to whisper things, 
About the costly clothes she wore 

And her many diamond rings. 



y 



$6 AN OLD SEXTON'S STORY. 

Then in the early summer time 

She gave up factory life. 
And some supposed that she'd become 

This wealthy student's wife. 
But it seldom happens that a girl 

Who sells herself so cheap, 
Attains to so much happiness ; 

They mostly sorrow reap ! 

And so it was with that poor girl, 

Her weeks of pleasure flew, 
Almost unheeded in their flight 

Though they must end she knew. 
For soon, alas ! the autumn Avinds 

Will strew the earth with leaves, 
And soon the "Harvester" will be 

Gathering in his sheaves. 

Now the college year was ended, 

And ere the setting sun, 
The usual stir and exodus 

Of students had begun ; 
Many who had graduated 

Must now forever part, 
Leaving behind in ruins 

Many a loving heart. 

But there was one, who lingered 

In the city day by day, 
As though he lacked the courage, 

To tear himself away. 
Or was it conscience smote him 

When he thought of the ruined life, 
Of the young confiding woman 

He dared not make his wife ? 

But what of that young woman, 
Was she prepared to part ? 

Would it pain her to relinquish 
The great love of her heart ? 



57 



Let us ask of the silent chamber, 
Where she took the fatal drug ; 

Let us ask of the empty vial. 
That was found upon the rug 



ip". 



Let us ask of that living witness, 

Who clasped her in his arms ; 
That terror-stricken student, 

Who had robbed her of her charms ? 
But ever to that question 

There comes the sad reply, 
Rather than life without him 

She had preferred to die. 

Rather than live with the knowledge 

That another would be his bride, 
That soon she'd be forgotten 

Like a flower that is cast aside ; 
Rather than live a factory life, 

And suffer the scoffs and jeers, 
She drank the draught that gave her 

Relief from scorn and tears. 

But see, here comes the funeral, 

Just passing through the gate, 
So if you wish to see the end 

You'll not have long to wait. 
I'm told that the velvet casket 

Was the best he could procure, 
And many people seem to think 

That he could do no more. 

But just so sure as I'm alive, 

There yet will come a time, 
When men who ruin lives like hers, 

Must suffer for their crime ! 
Then social inequality, 

And wealth and family pride, 
Will not be taken as excuse, 

To cast such love aside ! 



A TRAMP S STORY. $9 



^\ (Iframp's (<f)toF\j 



I was seated at breakfast one morning-, 

The weather was wretched and cold, 
For the mercury stood at zero 

As the frost on the window panes told. 
I had finished my first cup of coffee, 

And was thinking of asking for more, 
When I fancied I heard someone knock 

Outside on our back kitchen door. 
My wife, at the time, w as quite busy, 

So she asked me, **ifrd go and see 
Who it was at our door in such weather 

I too wondered who it could be. 
So pushing my chair from the table, 

And taking my hat from the rack, 
I started to open the door, 

Though the fierce wind near drove me back. 
But there sure enough stood a stranger, 

By his clothes, I could see at a glance 
That the poor bent. figure before me, 

Had come to our door by chance. 
I could tell ere he spoke that his mission 

Was something to eat and to drink. 
So I asked him inside of the kitchen, 

Xot pausing a moment to think. 
I gave him a seat near the fire, 

For his frame fairly shook with the cold y 
For his shoes, his hat and his garments, 

Were torn and threadbare and old. 
Then he tried, in a few words, to thank me 

For saving his life, as he said, 
Then my wife brought in the hot coffee, 

And a plate full of meat and some brtad. 
Then I left him to eat at his leisure, 

While I went to get some old shoes, 
And a coat and a hat that I thought 

This poor ragged tramp might use. 
'Tis needless to say he was thankful, 

And put on the things right away, 
Then I asked in a kind sort of manner, . 

How he came to be so poor today. 




A TRAMP'S STORY. 6 1 



"My story," he said, "is a long one, 

And dates away back to my youth. 
But if you have time to listen, 

I'll tell it and each word is the truth, 
My father, sir, when I was young-, 

Was a man quite well to do, 
For he owned a prosperous business 

And several houses too. 
But when the big department store 

Was opened on our street, 
It proved to be his downfall 

Through trying to compete. 
Then he sold his houses one by one, 

To prolong his fruitless fight, 
For his creditors began to press 

And the end came soon in sight. 
They forced him into bankruptcy, 

And then his health failed fast, 
Within a year he died, sir, 

A ruined man at last. 
Soon after my father's death occurred, 

I had to seek for work, 
And several jobs were offered me 

But mostly as a clerk. 
But I preferred like most strong lads 

To learn some staple trade, 
So I got a job at printing, 

And soon good wages made. 
For the men I worked for recognized 

That I was quick and smart, 
And pushed me foward all they could 

From the very start. 
For I was quite a steady lad, 

Xot one of the drinking sort, 
For with my earnings for man)- years. 

I had the home to support. 
My mother's health was never good, 

From the day my father died, 
And ten years later, she lay at rest 
By her dear husband's side. 



a tramp's story. 63 



At twenty-six, I married, sir, 

And thought my bliss complete, 
For my wife was one of the sweetest girls, 

You'd ever wish to meet. 
Then I bought a lot and built a house, 

I Mas proud of my little home, 
For little did I dream, sir, then, 

How soon as a tramp I'd roam. 
Typesetting then was looked upon, 

And so we used to assert, 
As being about the only trade, 

That machinery could not hurt. 
But one morning the foreman came, 

And asked me if I'd seen 
A circular that had been sent, 

About the new machine. 
I took the paper from his hand, 

And carefully read it through, 
And saw at once it would displace 

No end of men, if true. 
Soon after that I was taken sick, 

That is I -got run down, 
So I took the wife and children 

For a few weeks out of town. 
I'd been away about a month, 

And then for home we yearned, 
And so arranged to start next day 

For my health had quite returned 
But I never shall forget, sir, 

The first thing I was told, 
The firm I worked for all my life, 

A week ago was sold .; 
And all the help had been discharged 

Twas plainly to be seen, 
The work of over sixty men 

Would be done now by machine. 
At first I took it lightly, sir, 

I'd always thought it true, 
That there was work enough for all 

Who wanted work to do. 



A tramp's story. 65 



But I soon found to my sorrow. 

That such is not the case, 
For many a willing man must meet 

Starvation face to face. 
For weeks and months I walked around 

In search of work to do, 
My debts were fast increasing 

And my taxes over due. 
I once could hold my head erect, 

And never knew disgrace, 
But then it seemed I grew ashamed 

To look men in the face. 
And when at night I would return, 

Too crushed in heart to speak ; 
It nearly drove me mad to see 

My darling's pallid cheek. 
For the roses now had left them 

And her eyes were sunken, too, 
But she bravely strove to hide her grief 

Though it cost her much I knew. 
But at last her strength gave way, 

And I stood beside her bed, 
As she kissed our two dear children, 

I held her drooping head. 
Her last words bade me to be brave 

For our children's sake, 
And then she seemed to fall asleep, 

No more on earth to wake. 
I cannot tell you more, sir, 

For now to me it seems, 
That was done from that day on 

Was really done in dreams. 
My home was sold to pay my debts, 

My children sent away, 
While I alone must suffer on, 

And tramp from day to day. 
I'm many miles away, sir, now, 

From the place where I was born, 
And few would recognize the tramp 

And few his death would mourn. 



A TOAST TO A BRIDE 6j 



But still some day I long 1 to reach, 

That little spot out west, 
That I may see her grave once more, 

Then gladly welcome rest. 
Well good -by, sir, a thousand thanks, 

And may you never see 
So many sad misfortunes 

Such as made a tramp of me". 

As I said good-by, I gave him 
What I could spare at the time. 

For I knew that his wretched condition 
Was not due to vice or crime. 

His story has set me thinking, 

That with many tramps it's the same, 

Our present industrial system 

May be more than they to blame. 

For while the tools of industry- 
Are held by the wealthy few, 

The army of unemployed must tramp 
For what else can they do. 



<^\ (ffoast to a fl^ide. 



Come fill up your glasses 'tis with pleasure and pride 
That I rise to propose a toast to the bride ; 
A toast that I'm sure will be shared with delight 
By each friend and each guest assembled tonight. 

May the vows that she made in becoming a bride 
Be ever her beacon, her star and her guide ; 
For on their observances from now on through life ; 
Will depend the great issue between joy and strife. 

The first of those vows is to "Love" and I'm sure 
No bride ever loved her husband much more 
Than the bride of tonight loves the man of her choice, 
In that love may she ever have cause to rejoice. 



\ 



A TOAST TO A BRIDE. 69 



May it be as a spring welling up fresh and pure, 
Giving strength, hope and patience, each trial to endure ; 
For love in a cottage when attended by health, 
Is a blessing far greater than millionaire's wealth. 

It is love that sustains us -when troubles arise 
Like the dark clouds that hide the blue of the skies ; 
It is love that dispels every selfish desire 
And leaves us as pure as gold from the fire. 

The next is to "Cherish" but what wife can fail 
To give comfort and aid should sickness assail ; 
Regardless of self she will watch by your side, 
Uncomplaining and tender what e'er may betide. 

The next is to "Honor," to guard her fair name 
Against all appearance of folly and shame ; 
May she guard against scandal, whose dark hidden course, 
Leads but to dissention and sometimes divorce. 

May she ever use wisdom avoiding most zealously 

Trifles that breed suspicion and jealousy, 

For man\- a heart with grief has been pained 

That might have rejoiced had the cause been explained. 

There is yet one more word that is to "Obey". 
But on that one word I have little to say, 
Although with much truth it often is said 
Be it nation or household, there must be a head. 

One wish there remains for me now to express, 
Ma\- strong healthy children her home ever bless ; 
Ala}' she live long and happy and as she grows older 
Ma}' her love for her husband never grow colder. 

May the guests who are present around her tonight 

Assemble each year with increasing delight ; 

So let us all drink with pleasure and pride 

To the wishes expressed in my toast to the bride. 



THE GREAT COAL STRIKE. 7 1 



The great coal strike was ordered— 

. 'Twas the thirteenth day of May, 

A hundred and forty thousand men 

Had quit the mines that day. 
A hundred and forty thousand men 

In Pennsylvania State, 
Had matched their "Right' ; , in labor's fight 

Against the "Might" of eight. 

A hundred and forty thousand men, 

Who risked their lives, their health, 
Deep down in the dark and foulsome earth, 

To bring up Nature's wealth ; 
Had dared to ask for Justice, 

Had asked from this "Lordly" eight, 
A small increase in wages, 

Had offered to arbitrate. 

But no ! this "Lordly" eight replied, 

We'll do just as we please ; 
You lawless anarchists can starve 

And all the nation freeze. 
It is by "Right Divine" we own 

These mines, of wealth untold, 
So you must work for what we give, 

For the means of life we hold. 

Just think of it, ye free born sons 

Who boast of the war, which gave 
So many thousand noble lives 

To free the negro slaves ! 
A hundred and forty thousand men. 

Their wives and children, too, 
Dependant for the means of life 

Upon this tyrant few ! 



THE GKEAT COAL STRIKE. 73 

Just think of it, ye free born sons, 

A nation's greatest need, 
To be controlled exclusively 

By a few men's sordid greed , 
Just think of it, and as you write 

This glorious nation's past, 
Tell how these grim)' sons of toil 

Stood bravely to the last. 

The President at last prevailed 

Upon this "Lordly" eight, 
To let the men go back to work, 

And then to arbitrate. 
For only when the nation's voice 

Was raised against this wrong, 
Did they perceive their danger, 

This struggle to prolong. 

How long will this mighty nation, 

How long will its sons of toil, 
Allow the few to say they own 

The riches of the soil ! 
How long will the toiling masses 

Be satisfied to give, 
The lion's share of their daily gain, 

For just the chance to live ! 



WELCOME TO JOHN MITCHELL. 75 

eleome to @|ohn [^rtehell 



We welcome you, John Mitchell, 

With hand, and voice, and heart, 
For well we know in labor's cause 

You've played a noble part. 
We welcome you as laboring men 

Who fully recognize, 
Your cause was that of Justice, 

And the right to organize. 

We welcome you, because you've shown 

The workmen of this land, 
The mighty power of labor 

If they united stand. 
We've learned your worth, John Mitchell, 

As a leader staunch and true, 
For never was a man more tried, 

More closely watched than you. 

We welcome you, John Mitchell, 

Because you've brought to light 
The sufferings of those grimy men, 

Who scarce know day from night. 
You've brought to light the sufferings 

Of children, and of wives ; 
Of those poor miners who have lost 

Their health, their limbs, their lives. 

You've brought to light the naked truth,, 

How children worked to pay 
The debts their fathers had incurred, 

Ere they were called away. 
And how they have to toil, and starve, 

Strangers to childish glee, 
That a few may pile their millions up, 

And live in luxury. 



y6 WELCOME TO JOHN MITCHELL. 

We hope some day, John Mitchell, 

To find you in the lines 
Of men who urge the nation, 

To confiscate the mines. 
For not till then will miners 

Cease to be oppressed, 
And live as honest men should live, 

And rest, as men should rest. 



For that strike has set men thinking. 
Though millioniares may scoff, 

That "the Earth", is still "the Lord's", 
"And the fullness thereof." 

Yes ! the Lord has set those mines 
In the bowels of the earth, 

As the heritage of every child 

That He has given birth. 

I 

We welcome you, John Mitchell, 

Because your hand and brain, 
Have been your source of livelihood 

Your only source of gain. 
We welcome you with honest grasp 

Of labor's horny hand, 
And may our cheers sent up tonight, 

Find echo through the land. 

We've told you what we think of you 

With candor, truth, and pride; 
So let us spend a happy hour 

And cast dull care aside. 
Remembering only that we have 

A common cause at heart, 
The cause of every laboring man, 

Who plays a manly part. 






BLACKLIST VERSUS BOYCOTT. J 7 



7 



It is lawful to blacklist a workman 

Who manfully lays down his tools, 
And joins in a strike for fair wages 

Or against some tyrannical rules. 
It is lawful for bosses to hound him 

And prevent him from earning a meal, 
Until he is forced from sheer hunger, 

To lie down and starve, or to steal. 

But of course it's unlawful for workmen 

Attempting to boycott a boss, 
And thej^re sent up to jail in a hurry 

or trying to cause him a loss. 
It's a crime now, to tell your own wife 

Xot to purchase at this store? or that, 
When she goes out to spend your own money 

In buying a dress, or a hat. 

The bosses, of course, may combine 

To cut down your wages at will, 
Regardless of how you may suffer, 

Or how many mouths you've to fill. 
But if a trade union should vote 

To strike for an increase in pay, 
The bosses get out an injunction, 

And your freedom is gone right away. 

But let us just think for awhile, 

And ask ourselves, who is to blame 
That the laws for the workmen and boss 

Are so far from being the same. 
Just ask yourselves who you have sent ' 

To make all these unequal laws, 
And I think that your answer will be, 

That we, by our votes, are the cause. 
LofC 



CIGAR MAKERS' BLUE LABEL BASE BALL SONG. 79 

©igat 3 [fakers' (§>lue {©abel 



There's a pleasant little rural spot 

Not very far away, 
Where members of our base ball league 

Meet every Saturday. 
Some play a real good game of ball, 

While others sit and see; 
But the center of attraction is 

A spreading apple tree. 

Its trunk is old and twisted like 

A monster octopus, 
And when the sun is very hot 

Its branches shelter us. 
'Tis there we meet with good old friends 

Who shake our hands with glee, 
And pledge our friendship once again 

Beneath that apple tree. 

Some men prefer to stroll about 

And see the sights in town. 
While others in a game of cards 

With two or three sit down. 
But a well contested game of ball 

Is good enough for me, 
When I can meet those good old friends 

Beneath the apple tree. 

So here's luck to our base ball league, 

And the aim we have in view, 
To bring before the public 

Our little label blue 
You'll always find it on the box 

Of a union made cigar, 
So don't forget to ask for it, 

No matter where von are. 



! 



8o CHILD LABOR, A SACRIFICE TO GREED. 

(@,h\lb (®abci% a ^aenfiee to 

peed. 



Hark ! the wail of anguish rising, 
Ever louder, louder still, 

From the countless little children 
In the factory, mine and mill. 



Working, working, ever working. 
Till their little hearts most bleed; 

Yielding up their feeble powers 
As a sacrifice to greed. 



Grinding, grinding, ever grinding 

Helpless little lives away; 
Heathen "Juggernauts" were playthings, 

As compared with ours today. 

Grasping, grasping, ever grasping, 

Is the mighty millionaire, 
Heedless of those children dying. 

Heedless of their blank despair. 

Striving, striving, ever striving 
To make his many millions more, 

He becomes a human vampire, 
Steeped in little children's gore. 

But we're marching, ever marching, 
Join our ranks and help us save 

Those poor helpless little children, 
Ere they fill their unmarked grave. 

Yes! we're marching, ever marching 
Proudly waves our flag on high ; 

Pointing unto freedom's dawning — 
Labor's triumph now is nigh, 



i TRRARY OF CONGRES 

WHS 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 

HMHWllllIiJ 

018 604 115 A W 



